Monday, December 13, 2010

I watched the proud old trees
Standing erect, like awakened conscience.
Peace and silence.
No soul to be seen.
Clearly the winter has not finished its story,
And the sun, chained by the fogs
Is still waiting for its belated glory.

The winding paths looped along,
and the wild wind above
In a flood of mists blew.And with our dear earth I am ever in love,Because you are walking it too…

About Me

I write-for my soul.I live like a kite on a string, attached to the threads of responsibilities,yet fly freely about by gusts of imagination and impulse.Trying to keep balance between focus and flexibility.